Free A Stitch in Time by Amanda James Page A

unattractive and exposed.
    She folded her arms tightly across her chest and sighed. Still, at least it would be easier to avoid any complications between the two of them. There was no way he’d fancy her looking like this. And that’s exactly what she wanted.
    ‘Now,
bon appétit
, my dear.’ John smiled and, with a flourish, placed the bacon and eggs in front of her. It did look very appetising. Sarah remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything apart from a small bowl of cereal and very old cheese on toast on Tuesday. Her tummy growled and bubbled in indignation and she realised she was ravenous. The trouble was, she’d have to unfold her arms in order to eat it. That would not be a good idea, given the nipple situation.
    ‘Come on, dig in,’ John said, through a mouthful of bacon. Even with bacon fat dribbling down his chin he would still win the hearts of her vegetarian friends. She tried the Gary Keynsham trick, but to no avail. Gary’s head materialised in her imagination for a nano-second, but then, with a flash of his tombstone teeth, disappeared into the ether. Instead, looking back at her was a near-perfect face, at the moment wearing dark stubble on its strong chin, a sexy smile and a pair of sea-green eyes crinkling at the corners.
    She looked at the table and shook her head. ‘I’m not that hungry,’ she said. ‘Besides, I can’t just start chucking bacon and eggs down my neck without some answers, John. My mind is in turmoil.’
    John pointed his fork at her. ‘You must be hungry after all you’ve been through. Just try and have a few mouthfuls, and drink your juice. I’ll answer all your questions while we eat.’
    For the next few seconds or so, John watched as Sarah tried to eat one-handed. With her left arm still clamped tightly across her chest, she attempted to cut the bacon with her fork and ended up catapulting one half of the crispy rasher into John’s coffee.
    ‘What the hell are you doing?’ He frowned, picking the soggy morsel of bacon out and throwing it in the sink.
    ‘It’s your fault for making the bacon too crispy.’
    ‘Oh, I see, nothing to do with you eating as if your left arm was in a sling, then?’
    ‘I’m not,’ Sarah said leaning forward on the table, her arms folded.
    ‘No, not now, but you’re obviously hiding something. Look, you still have your arms folded across your … oh I see!’ he said, grinning widely.
    ‘What do you mean?’ She looked away, her face aflame.
    ‘If you’re trying to cover your modesty, don’t bother. I clocked that you were looking, shall we say, a bit perky, as soon as you came into the kitchen.’ He laughed, and took a huge bite out of his toast.
    Sarah opened her mouth and closed it again. She couldn’t see the point of trying to make something up. She pushed her chair back and flounced out.
    Reappearing a few minutes later, wearing a touch of make-up, a bra and a blue checked shirt, her hair in a ponytail, she sat down and proceeded to demolish her breakfast.
    ‘Not hungry then?’ John smirked.
    ‘I lied, obviously. Now, put some more toast on, and tell me what the hell happened to Wednesday, why I feel like I’ve a hangover, why I didn’t go back to my classroom but instead woke up in bed, and why the person I saved … I suppose I did save him?’ She looked at John anxiously.
    He nodded.
    ‘Good. What was I saying? Ah, yes … and why he looked
exactly
like you.’
    As John busied himself with the toast, he told her that she’d slept for an entire day as, because of the whole traumatic experience, and it being her first time as a Stitch, she’d been pulled out of the past and put into a deep sleep. She wouldn’t have coped being sent straight back to deal with 9CM. The hangover was a result of the trauma and being brought back through time so rapidly.
    ‘It’s a bit like having the bends, you know like divers get when they come up from the sea bed too quickly. Nitrogen bubbles get in the blood or